


Waited Long Enough

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angry Anthea, Awesome Greg Lestrade, Conversations, Drunk Mycroft, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Anthea/Mycroft Holmes, F/M, Greg Plays Matchmaker, Literal Sleeping Together, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft Holmes & Greg Lestrade Friendship, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Mycroft is a Softie, Mycroft-centric, No Sex, POV Mycroft Holmes, Phone Calls & Telephones, Post-The Final Problem, Sherlock Series 4 Spoilers, Understanding Anthea, sad mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2018-09-21 08:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9539543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: Caring wasn't an advantage. He's known that for so long it's drilled into every bone in his body. But tonight Sherlock proved it to be false and it's flipped Mycroft's world on its head. Perhaps it's time to make sense of the one instance where he has cared and pushed the person away.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written from a prompt suggested by **ojol** , who gave me the lyrics to the Hamilton song. It's been rattling in my head and I just had to get the first part out before I burst.

  
_Love doesn’t discriminate_  
_Between the sinners_  
_And the saints_  
_It takes and it takes and it takes_  
_And we keep loving anyway_  
_We laugh and we cry_  
_And we break_  
_And we make our mistakes_  
_And if there’s a reason I’m by her side_  
_When so many have tried_  
_Then I’m willing to wait for it_  
_I’m willing to wait for it_  
**Hamilton**   
_“Wait For It”_   


He knew his brother worried. After everything, his brother had shown he had a heart larger than anyone had known. Well, perhaps their sister had known.

That showed how blind he had truly been, it seemed.

He knew Sherlock meant well sending him off in Gregory’s care. They were quite well acquainted; they had to be, after all, since taking care of Sherlock from the days of his habits damn near consuming him and getting him to this point had been a damn near all-consuming task for the both of them at some points. There were times when he felt the only people in the world he talked to about anything not concerning politics were Gregory Lestrade and her.

And so it was that Gregory knew fairly early on that he was not...not so much not _wanted_ as not preferred. They shared a few glasses of brandy once Gregory had delivered him at home as Mycroft let go of the whole bloody truth, once and for all, to him. No hedging around the edges, Gregory got the full import f just how enormously flawed the Holmes family _really_ was. It was delivered in a voice that became slightly more vexed with each sip, because he knew when it all came out to Mummy and Father, they would blame him harshly.

 _As they should_ , the obnoxious voice in his head spoke out to him. He attempted to drown it out with more brandy but he knew that wouldn’t work. It never did.

Finally, after his second glass, Gregory stood. “You know,” he said, “I should call Hopkins and get her to take me home. And you should call your PA and have her come over.”

Mycroft actually scoffed, a sound that didn’t sound abnormal, really, but sounded harsher tonight than normal. “I’ve sent her away. To another office.”

“Is she in London still?”

“Yes,” he said, looking in his glass, debating a third glass.

“Will she still come over.”

 _Yes._ “Doubtful.”

“I bet you a thousand quid she will.”

Mycroft snorted a laugh and looked up at Gregory. “Have you got a thousand quid to spare, Gregory?”

“I’ll take up a collection.” He waved his hand in Mycroft’s general direction. “Call her, you git.”

Mycroft sent a glare his way and then shifted to pull his mobile out of his pocket. He was ashamed to look and feel this slovenly but right now he frankly didn’t care. Near death experiences were not a dime a dozen in his line of work. That was his brother’s business. And especially not at the hands of Eurus and her cavalcade of psychological horrors. It had been like being inside the horror movies he had fancied for a time. He knew he would never watch them again.

After a moment he dialed the quick number to Andrea’s private mobile. He didn’t know whether she had kept it upon being transitioned out of his office or discarded it. He had not explained why he had transferred her, but when he had seen Moriarty’s video he had, for a moment, panicked. She meant more to him than merely being the best personal assistant he had had in the years he had worked for the government. She had been the closest he would allow himself to a friend. The closest he would allow, if he might, to a woman he might fancy. He had not been lost as to what Lady Smallwood’s invitation had meant, he had simply not been interested. Had it been an invitation from Andrea, it might have been a different matter.

“I thought you didn’t know this number anymore.”

Her tone was a tad bit cross, but mostly curious. Gregory stood, arms crossed. Mycroft sat up a bit straighter under his gaze. “My sister nearly succeeded in offing my brother and I. I think the problem has been neutralized without her death. Sherlock, once again, outwitted me. Outwitted both of us. But not without loss.”

“John Watson?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “Eurus has slipped inside herself. I don’t know if she is reachable.”

“I’m sorry,” Andrea said, and it sounded as if she meant it. There was a pause. “Do you need me?”

And that was it, the loaded question. Yes, yes, of course he needed her. He was sure he needed her the same way Sherlock needed his pathologist; he would destroy more than a coffin with his bare hands in Andrea was in any danger. He would destroy bare flesh. But he was never sure if she would have him. He wasn’t like his brother. He made deals with devils and was never going to side with the angels, ever. He wasn’t sure he deserved love. He wasn’t sure there was a happy ending waiting for him. He was sure if he said yes, he would lose more than his heart, and losing that would be bad enough.

But for her, he would do anything. 

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I need you tonight.”

“I’ll be there,” she said, and then he heard the connection go dead on her end. 

He lowered his mobile and looked at Gregory before hauling himself out of his seat and then going to his bottle of brandy, glass in hand, ready to pour himself another drink. “I’ll have a cheque sent to Scotland Yard first thing in the morning.”

“And I’ll donate it to getting some better coffeemakers at the Yard,” Greg said with a grin. “I’ll wait in the foyer for Hopkins. Hope your evening improves, Mycroft.” He nodded to Mycroft and then turned around, making his very slightly unsteady way out of Mycroft’s study. Mycroft watched him leave, and then looked back at the brandy and glass and set the glass down. Enough for now. He should keep his wits about him for the moment, to see where his conversation with Andrea might lead.


	2. Chapter 2

He imagined Gregory had already been picked up by the time he heard the clacking of her heels in the entryway to his study. He had memorized how she walked long ago, all the various ways she varied her gait. She was approaching with trepidation this time.

No wonder. His call was sure to have worried her some.

Soon she slipped into the seat Gregory had abandoned some time ago. She looked polished. Perfect. Beautiful, as she always did. She had taken time to put on her armor. He had not bothered with his and it showed that it surprised her all over her face. “She did a number on you,” Andrea said quietly.

Mycroft nodded. “Yes,” he said, reaching for his empty glass. He picked it up and looked at it. “But I do not think I’ll have more trouble with her. Or help, for that matter. Which means I’ve failed in the duty set before me.”

“It was a shite duty to begin with,” she said, a tad more vehemence in her tone than he had expected. He turned his gaze to her and set the glass down. “You were a boy _yourself_ when she murdered that boy and set the family home on fire. You shouldn’t have been groomed to deal with that whole fiasco. That is on your parents and your uncle. _They_ failed.”

“I didn’t know you felt so strongly on the matter,” he said.

“There is a lot you don’t know about me, no matter how hard you’ve studied me.” She looked down into her lap. “You sent me off because you were scared, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “Whether it really had been Moriarty’s doing, or it was my sister, I didn’t want you to be a pawn in their games.”

“I’m already up to my neck in you and your decisions and your life, Mycroft,” she said. “Sending me away didn’t help. It just...changed things.”

“Irreparably?” he asked before he could help himself.

“I don’t think so,” she said quietly. “I...don’t know.” She began to pick at the skirt she was wearing, though there was nothing on it as far as he could tell. “I care about you, Mycroft. More than I should. I worried. But you never reached out to me, and you acted like I had never been in our life at all. You moved on so easily.”

“It wasn’t easy,” he said softly. “I missed your presence more than you can imagine. Not just in a professional capacity, either.”

“So what do we do?” she asked. “I’m not your PA any longer. We don’t have that barrier between us. All that’s left is...us. The way we are. The way we hold people at arm’s length and don’t let them get close.”

“I want you close,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.”

She nodded and then stood up, coming to his chair. She gently caressed his face until he looked up at her, staring into the face he had memorized, the face that had been in what few good dreams he had, and a few nightmares as well. Then she offered him her other hand and he took it, welcoming the warmth. “Let’s go to bed, Mycroft.”

He nodded and stood them as her hand on his face fell away, letting her lead him out of the study, all thoughts of spending the night in a drunken haze forgotten. He had the feeling what lay in store for him now would be much more pleasant and needed.


End file.
